


My Boyfriend, My Warchief...

by GarroshxReader (pyroblast)



Series: Garrosh x Reader [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 01:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyroblast/pseuds/GarroshxReader
Summary: You're a person of unspecified race, age and gender. You still live at home with your parents, and your boyfriend is the Warchief! A wholesome exploration of the difficulties of Trust and Communication when your partner is a very large man with very large responsibilities.





	1. Cuppa Refusal

You take a tentative bite. This...thing, is supposedly a chocolate truffle. But it tastes like dry dirt, molded together like a dusty snowball. You try not to, but you cough.

 

“Well? What do you think? They’re your favourite, aren’t they?” he asks expectantly.

 

Trying not to meet his eyes, you lay the remainder of the failed truffle down on the table. As you do, his face immediately falls.

  
“You don’t like them.”

  
  
You rush to smooth his feelings, “No! No, it’s not that they’re just-”

  
“Just what?” 

  
  
You can barely meet his eyes as you mumble, “...just not very good.”

 

The silence that follows stretches out uncomfortably. He made so many truffles, they’re stacked almost a foot high on the plate between you. You can see the tension increase in every sinew of his huge, muscular body. It gets to the point where you can’t take it anymore and you just  _ have _ to say something, but before you can even speak he cuts you off -

 

“I spent all day making these. All. Day. And they are so small. Do you know how difficult this was? The lengths I took, just to try and please you? I had Pandaren, I had Elves, cooks from across the Horde trying to teach me! And for this?! This...ungrateful, disloyal-” he reigns himself in, trying to stay calm. His voice is eerily quiet when he speaks again.

 

“Maybe Nazgrim will enjoy them.” 

 

“What, no- babe come on, I just-”

 

“NAZGRIM. GET IN HERE,” he yells, shaking your school photos on the wall. 

 

“Why did you even bring him? I told you to leave him at home!” You snap, your annoyance over-riding your apprehension. 

 

Dutiful as ever, Nazgrim edges through the door to your parent’s living room. He’s getting mud all over the new laminate. You don’t understand why Nazgrim always has to come. You can never relax, picturing him waiting on the porch pitifully. Your mum always offers him a cup of tea, and he always declines.   
  
“Yes Warchief!” he says, drawing himself up to salute. In doing so, he cracks the plaster of the ceiling.

 

“You liked my truffles didn't you? You thought they were good?” It is technically a question, but the way it is asked suggests there is only one correct answer, without room for opinion nor honesty. Nazgrim nods, a quick and professional affirmation.

 

“Well. Perhaps  _ you _ will enjoy the rest of them.” He picks up the plate, shaking with barely suppressed rage.

 

Every aspect of the older orc’s body language is screaming his revulsion at having to eat his way through the trembling pile of truffles. He takes one, eyes it up, then swallows it in one swift movement like a paracetamol tablet.

  
“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, but his eyes are watering.

 

You can’t stand to watch this, he’s going to make him eat them all. “Garrosh! Stop it, can’t you see it’s hurting him!” You try to pull on his arm, get him to put the plate down, but he’s just too bloody strong.

 

The look he gives you would quell a lesser person, but not you. You stare defiantly back at him. 

 

“He likes them,” he growls, “Don’t you Nazgrim?”   
  


“No he doesn’t! Look at him, he’s even greener than usual! You’re forcing him to eat them!”

 

Nazgrim shuffles his feet uncomfortably. You continue.

 

“And anyway, I keep telling you to stop taking him over here! It’s always so awkward, you never bring him in, he kills the mood by moping around outside and the neighbours keep telling my parents they think a burglar is casing our house at night!”

 

He lets your words sink in, and he nods. Then he nods several times. And then, he stands. His ridiculous shoulder pads punch a hole in your mum’s ornament cabinet, shattering the glass. He bumps his head on the living room light and screams at it in an incoherent rage. He throws the plate at the wall above the telly, leaving a grubby brown stain on the wallpaper.

 

You roll your eyes at the display, more disappointed than angry. “Stop acting like such a baby! You need to leave, both of you. You can’t come round here acting like this, when my mum and dad are always so nice to you! Get out!”

 

Nazgrim looks ashamed, but Garrosh does not. He’s caught up in the moment, his pride wounded. He stomps out of the room. After giving you an apologetic shrug, Nazgrim follows. You can hear your dad in the kitchen calling, “Is that you Garrosh? Do you want a cuppa?”

 

The stomping pauses briefly, as Garrosh replies, “No thanks, we were just leaving…” with an edge of shame to his voice. He leaves quickly after that, before he has to see your dad’s reaction to the mess.

 

Slumping back on the sofa, you rub your forehead. Why does he keep acting out like this? He never used to be so angry all the time. You wonder if it’s just the stress of the job. As you wonder, your dad comes through. 

 

“Oh dear,” he says, “Did you two have another falling out?”


	2. Cautious Optimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never stay mad at him for long. Garrosh comes round to apologise.

A few days later, late in the afternoon, your dad knocks on your bedroom door.

 

“What?” you ask.

 

“Garrosh is here to see you!” your dad says, injecting some extra, hopeful cheeriness into his voice.

 

“I’m not talking to him, tell him to-” 

 

Your dad opens the door, pushing in without waiting. You scowl.

 

“I mean it dad.”

 

“But he’s already here, and your mum’s making roast beef for dinner…! I’ll leave you two alone…” 

 

He leaves, and is replaced by the enormous, powerful form of Garrosh Hellscream, who says, “Hey.”

 

You give him a withering look as you slowly close the book you were reading. “You have some cheek coming over here again after last time, Garrosh.”

 

“I know- and I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I have already apologised to your family, but you see my job is so-”

 

“Oh yeah, your  _ stressful job _ . The job that you never want to talk to me about, that you keep blaming everything on! If you’d learn to  _ communicate  _ then maybe you wouldn’t be so angry all the time!” you say, sitting on the edge of your bed and folding your arms tightly.

 

Without invitation, Garrosh sits down beside you. The springs of your old single bed screech in protest. At least he isn’t wearing his shoulder pads, or he’d have punctured the sloping ceiling. He takes up almost the entire bed.

 

You sit together in silence, but before long it is broken by the sounds of hammering coming from downstairs.

 

“Oh, you’re kidding me. You brought Nazgrim to fix the cabinet?!”

 

“...well he’s good at that sort of thing. You should see the necklace he carved me for Winter Veil. And I get too frustrated by the tiny screws. What’s wrong with giant nails, what’s wrong with wooden spikes?” Garrosh clasps his hands and inspects them in his lap. “I really am sorry. I hate it when we fight, and it’s always my fault. I have no excuses. I just saw red. I knew they were bad truffles. I’m sorry.”

 

You nod, and lay one of your hands over his. “It’s alright. But you have to start talking to me, okay? And...well, we could stand to get out a bit more, couldn’t we? We’re always coming here. We could go to your place more often?”

 

“My place doesn’t have WiFi,” he says, “Or television.”

 

“Well then we could go out? On actual dates, to restaurants, to the beach? We could take the dog out, even.”

 

He considers, then pulls you into a hug. “If it will make you happy,” he sighs, “I suppose we could go out more often.”

 

You smile and hug him back. Well, you hug his bicep. "And you'll talk to me? When you're stressed?"

 

He nods. That's good enough for you. 

 

“You know, dinner won’t be ready for at least another half hour. I saw a video earlier that I thought you’d like. Let me see if I can find it,” you say, getting up and manoeuvring around the sharp plating of his boots. Grabbing your laptop, you settle down to show him a video on YouTube featuring a blind, orphan puppy who learns to love. The tension has passed, everything is as it should be, and you find yourself feeling cautiously optimistic for the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter because I felt like it was boring. Stay tuned for more exciting chapters with more plot. Also please feel free to request any additional Garrosh x Reader content and I will provide! Eventually.


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